


A Bit of Trouble

by ichbineinnerdess



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichbineinnerdess/pseuds/ichbineinnerdess
Summary: When a Mercian ealdorman orders Finan flogged, Uhtred is faced with a difficult choice
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

“Let him go. I will not ask again,” Uhtred’s voice was deceptively calm, but he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

Acwel shrugged, “Your man here has disrespected me by attacking my son. The punishment for that in these parts is flogging.”

Uhtred narrowed his eyes at the Mercian ealdorman. “He is one of my men.”

“He is on my land, under my rule,” Acwel rejoined.

“I am not the kind of man you want as an enemy,” Uhtred said, “and I do not have much patience.”

“Not any, some would say,” Osferth murmured quietly, at his side.

Acwel leaned forward in his chair, “You came here to negotiate with me on Æthelflæd’s behalf, and we have reached an agreement. If you break the peace, you also break our agreement.”

Uhtred looked over at Finan, who was on his knees, hands tied in front of him. There were men on both his sides, and the one who had pushed him down to his knees still had a firm grip on his shoulder.

Finan looked up, and met his gaze. There was anguish in his eyes, and regret. The regret was probably for having one drink too many and getting into a quarrel with the wrong man, whereas the anguish - Uhtred knew why it was there, and knew that this was about more than pride, humiliation or pain. He knew Finan was remembering the last time a whip had been used on him, and neither of them wanted to relive those memories. The change in Uhtred’s expression was barely perceptible, but Finan knew him well and was watching him closely.

“No,” Finan shook his head, “don’t. I won’t go back and have Lady Æthelflæd told it was on account of my actions no accord was made here.”

What they both knew, and Acwel did not, was that the selling of the nearby lands and their mining rights was not just a clever political move by Æthelflæd, it was born of necessity to fill her near-empty coffers before word got out and diminished her authority.

Uhtred grimaced.

Sihtric half turned towards him and put a restraining hand on his chest, “Lord, if it were me, I would want the same,” he said quietly.

Finan nodded, though he couldn’t hear the words.

“You stand down, then?” Acwel was no fool. He had taken Uhtred’s measure, and that of his men, and knew better than to let the situation slip out of his control, into bloodshed.

Uhtred’s hand left his sword, to the collective relief of Acwel’s men. Many of them had seen him in battle, and nearly all had heard the tales. Finan had earned their respect, whereas Acwel’s son was a prick.

“I stand down,” Uhtred conceded, “and I will take his place.”

There was stunned silence as his words were taken in.

Finan closed his eyes.

Acwel stared at Uhtred. “You would take his punishment for him?”

Uhtred shrugged in an offhand manner, “I am responsible for my men’s actions.”

Finan opened his eyes, looked at Uhtred. He was fighting back words, and tears. “Lord, please,” he finally said, his voice breaking slightly on the last word.

Uhtred shook his head. “No,” he said firmly, “there will be no argument on this, no discussion.”

Looking at Finan, he knew they were both remembering the whip falling again and again on Uhtred’s back as he shielded Halig with his own body. Remembering the whip falling down on him again, tears rolling down both their faces as they were forced to row and listen to Halig’s final tortured cries.

Uhtred gave him a soft look before turning back to Acwel.

He could not spare him the memories, and both of them would choose being flogged over watching the other be flogged, so maybe his choice was even selfish. But they all had things they could live with and things they would rather not live with, and right now Uhtred did not think he could live with watching Finan being stripped of his clothes and whipped, not when he had the power to prevent it, not after everything they had been through as slaves, and as friends.

He clenched and unclenched his fingers, wanting to fight his way out of this, but he knew his men were right - there were more important things at stake. There had been a time when he would not have cared about such things, but he was older and wiser now, or at least so he hoped, and at times even he was able to be more politic than hotheaded.

It was Acwel’s turn to grimace now. There was no good choice left to him. Uhtred was a Lord, and had been sent here by Lady Æthelflæd. Moreover, he was not unaware of the rumors regarding their relationship. He would either be risking her displeasure, or Uhtred’s.

He sighed. While he knew how to navigate a ruler’s displeasure, he would very much prefer not to wake one night to the feel of Uhtred’s knife at his throat.

“It is your choice,” he said, “albeit a strange one.” He nodded to his men.

Finan’s hands were untied, as Acwel’s men looked at him with mingled feelings of envy and compassion. Uhtred’s men spoke of Uhtred with great pride, and now it was clear why they would each of them follow him to Hell and back should he ask them to.

The heavily built man who had untied Finan led Uhtred outside to the courtyard, Sihtric following closely at his heels. The man gestured at Uhtred’s clothes, “Strip.”

Uhtred regarded him, much like a cat might regard a mouse while contemplating whether to eat it, or play with it. After a pause long enough to make it clear that this was happening only because he allowed it, Uhtred unfastened his sword, then handed over both sword and knife to Sihtric. “You have returned Finan’s weapons to him, Sihtric?” he asked.

“I will return them now, Lord,” Sihtric reluctantly moved away as Uhtred began to slowly unfasten his arm bracers.

Finan joined the crowd slowly gathering in the courtyard, Osferth at his side. Silently, they watched Uhtred remove his sleeveless leather doublet, and then the black tunic underneath. Finan cursed under his breath as Uhtred’s back was bared. He turned to Osferth, “Get our packs and saddle the horses, we ride out of here when this is over.”

Osferth nodded, “Aegelesburg?”

“No,” Finan ran his hand over his beard, “home to Coccham. We will send word to Lady Æthelflæd about the price agreed.”

Osferth glanced over at Uhtred, whose hands were being bound to the wooden beam of an old stone well. “I’m glad I don’t have to watch this,” he said. He placed a comforting hand on Finan’s shoulder, bowed his head and left hurriedly.

Finan cupped his cross in both hands and bit down on it nervously. Sihtric came to stand by him, and gave him a supportive nudge with his shoulder. “Osferth?” he asked.

“Making ready to leave.” Finan let out a shaky breath as the whip was raised. “Stubborn ass, no one asked him to do this.”

They both forgot to breathe as the whip fell on Uhtred’s back. Again and again the whip fell, adding bloody stripe after bloody stripe. Uhtred made no sound, though they could see the growing tension in the muscles of his neck and jaw.

“If that were you, he would have done something stupid,” Sihtric said, in a low voice.

“More stupid than this?”

“Yes,” Sihtric answered earnestly, handing Finan back his weapons, “and we wouldn’t have been able to talk him down.”

Uhtred let a small grunt escape him.

“Enough,” Acwel commanded.

Finan sighed in relief, letting his cross fall back down to his chest. Sihtric rushed forward, and took on Uhtred’s weight as he cut through the rope.

Uhtred grimaced as he lowered his arms and untangled them from the rope. He raised his head and met Acwel’s eyes.

“I regret that your visit here ended thus,” Acwel glanced towards Osferth, standing at the edge of the courtyard with horses saddled and ready, “I hope we meet again under better circumstances, Lord Uhtred.”

He nodded at Uhtred, then turned and left. His men followed him, some nodding their respect before leaving to allow Uhtred as much privacy as they could.

Finan placed a careful hand on Uhtred’s shoulder and surveyed the damage to his back, “We need to take care of that.”

“Not here.” It was a command.

A gangly young boy approached them. “Please. Ointment for your wounds,” he stammered, proffering a small leather pouch. Sihtric took it from him, and examined the contents.

“You are a healer?” Uhtred asked. The boy shook his head, “Her apprentice.”

Sihtric mounted his horse and leaned over to grab the reins of Uhtred’s horse, pulling it alongside his own. Uhtred groaned as he pulled himself up into the saddle with Finan’s help.

Osferth clicked his tongue and started off at a trot, Sihtric following after, still holding the reins of Uhtred’s horse.

Finan mounted, taking one last look around the courtyard. A few curious onlookers were staring at him, and he caught sight of Acwel’s son Drefan leaning against a doorway, watching. His lip was still swollen from the blow Finan had landed, and there was an ugly bruise on the side of his face that Finan suspected had come from his father. Biting his lip to stop himself from causing any further trouble, Finan turned away, galloping to catch up and ride at Uhtred’s side.


	2. Chapter 2

Finan squinted up at the sky. “We should stop here, treat your wounds before we lose the light.”

“There is still plenty of light,” Uhtred said, furrowing his brow as he tried to look up at the sky without moving his head and, by extension, any muscles that might be connected to his back in any way.

Finan bit his lip, shaking his head. “Stubborn,” he muttered.

Sihtric turned, and gave Osferth a meaningful glance.

Osferth cleared his throat, suppressing a smile. “Lord,” he said, “there is a stream here, we should stop and let the horses drink.”

“Alright,” Uhtred agreed easily, maneuvering his horse carefully down from the path to the ravine.

Finan stopped, crossed his arms and stared at Osferth, who was grinning as he rode by him. Sihtric winked at Finan, then laughed quietly as he too nudged his horse sideways.

...

“Remind me why I am still waiting?” Uhtred asked, looking pointedly at Finan.

“Because boiled water is the cleanest, for treating open wounds,” Finan said firmly, adding another branch to the fire.

Uhtred sighed, then winced as he moved his hand to his face. “You worry a great deal about every little cut, for a fighter that has been through so much.”

“I’m still alive l, aren’t I?”

“And that is because of boiled water?”

“That-“ Finan let out a measured breath. “We are boiling the water,” he said, pointing a stick at Uhtred before throwing it into the fire.

They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the flames.

“So then we have to wait for it to cool,” Uhtred said conversationally.

Sihtric grinned as he took another bite of the dried meat that was their meal.

Finan rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned his forehead against his palms. There was no mirth in his expression.

“It was my punishment to take. Mine,” he said quietly.

Uhtred’s eyes widened in surprise, “Are you angry with me, Finan?”

“I am,” Finan chewed on his lower lip, not meeting Uhtred’s eyes, “I am, and I feel guilt for being angry at you, but I did not ask for this, and I did not want it.” He raised his eyes to Uhtred’s, “I am not a child, to have another answer for me. I was drunk and I made a stupid mistake, and the consequences of that were mine, and mine alone, to bear.”

Uhtred cleared his throat in the heavy silence that followed, and made a ghost of a shrug. “Don’t make stupid mistakes then, if you do not want to watch others suffer for them,” he said mildly, and then added, “You drink too much, Finan.”

It was Finan’s turn to widen his eyes at the unexpected judgement. He looked away, but not before Uhtred saw the hurt in his expression. He added, in a slightly softer tone of voice, “I will not suffer others to pass judgement on my men. Do not put me in that position.”

Finan clenched and unclenched his jaw, but made no response.

Sihtric took out his whittling knife and a leather strap, and proceeded to polish and sharpen the blade. Osferth threw a few leaves into the water that had already begun to boil. After a few moments, he removed the water from the fire and poured it into a couple of small wooden bowls. “The ointment?” he asked.

Sihtric leaned back to grab his cloak, retrieved the small leather pouch and tossed it to Osferth. Osferth shook out the contents, a vial and some leaves. He crushed the leaves in his palm, dropped them into the bowls, then unstoppered the vial and sniffed at it. He nodded at Uhtred, who let the cloak he had wrapped around himself for warmth fall to the ground. Osferth carefully rose to his knees, blowing on the bowl to cool the water, and then froze.

“Ah,” he said. He very gently placed the bowl back on the ground, and then bolted ungracefully into the brushwood behind them.

“Not again,” Uhtred said, raising his eyebrows.

“I told him not to eat it,” Sihtric grinned, playing with his knife.

“It’s a miracle he has anything left to shit,” Finan said, then sighed and rose to his feet. He picked up the vial and bowls, and knelt alongside Uhtred. He dipped a knuckle into the boiled water, and then picked up Uhtred’s cloak, placing it gently over his back again, “Let’s give it another minute or two,” he said.

Sihtric glanced over at the both of them, then silently rose to his feet and wrapped his own cloak around himself. “Relieve myself,” he said in explanation, and walked away.

“Tactful,” Uhtred remarked, threw a twig into the fire, and immediately regretted it. He closed his eyes, waiting for the flash of pain to subside.

“I know I drink too much,” Finan said quietly.

“Finan, I didn’t mean to-“

“No, you’re right. I do drink too much,” Finan rubbed his forehead, “I drink to forget. Forget my past, my mistakes, the family I will never see again.”

They were both silent a while.

Finan removed Uhtred’s cloak, “Ready?”

Uhtred nodded, bracing himself.

Finan poured the water over his back, slowly, and then examined the wounds. He gave a satisfied nod, “Clean enough.”

He unstoppered the vial with his teeth, and then poured some of the thick, pasty ointment into his palm. Neither of them spoke as Finan began carefully applying the paste to the whip marks. Uhtred winced as Finan touched a deeper cut where several whip marks overlapped.

“Do you need me to stop for a moment?” Finan asked.

Uhtred shook his head, and then buried his face in his hands as Finan continued.

“There,” Finan said, finally, “don’t move yet, let the paste harden properly.” He stoppered the vial, and collected the bowls. “It looks good,” he added, “no sign of infection, no damage to your ability to swing a sword.”

He began to rise, then stopped, “Do you need something for the pain?”

Uhtred raised a weary face from his palms, and shook his head again. “I’m alright,” he said.

Finan studied him. “No need to play the hero,” he said.

Uhtred smiled, “Are we still talking about my pain, or something else?”

“You know, if you ever want to talk,” he added, when Finan didn’t answer, “about what happened before we met-“

“Talking won’t change the past,” Finan said.

“That is true,” Uhtred agreed, “and that ointment does not change the fact that I was flogged. But it does help with the healing.”

Finan gave a wry grin, “When did you become so wise?”

Uhtred answered with an almost imperceptible shrug, and a very perceptible smug expression.

Finan shook his head, “Maybe another time.”

“Over a drink,” Uhtred suggested.

Finan looked up sharply, but Uhtred’s expression indicated it had not been intended as a barb.

Finan nodded. “I will take you up on that, Lord.”

Uhtred clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “Don’t Lord me now.”

“Uhtred, then,” Finan amended.

Uhtred reached over with a groan and placed his hand on the back of Finan’s neck, pressing their foreheads together. “From that cursed slaveship, to now, and until I enter Valhalla,” he said, “I would give my life for yours.”

Finan gripped Uhtred’s arm, “Not if I could give my life for yours first,” he grinned.

“What a beautiful moment,” Osferth commented, clasping his hands together piously.

“Touching. Warms the heart,” Sihtric agreed, patting his chest.

“Did you help the baby monk wipe his arse?” Finan rose to his feet, laughing.

“I do what needs to be done,” Sihtric replied, smiling.

“If everyone is done being an idiot,” Uhtred said, “we should be on our way.”

“Not nearly done, any of us, in all likelihood,” Osferth said in an undertone.

“What was that, Osferth?”

“I said I’ll get the horses ready, Lord,” Osferth said loudly.

“Good,” Uhtred took a drink from his water skin, “Hild will be surprised to see us back so soon.”

Finan groaned, “What will we tell her?”

Osferth shrugged, “That we got into a bit of trouble, as usual.”

“Fair enough,” Uhtred said.

“It’s a wonder we ever make it back alive,” Finan conceded.

Uhtred held out his hand, and Finan pulled him up to his feet.

Uhtred stood, watching his men gather up their things and smother the fire. He felt his heart swell with pride that these men were his, that he had earned their loyalty and trust.

He watched them turn their eyes to him, waiting for his word.

“Onwards then, to the next bit of trouble,” he grinned.


End file.
